Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

What I can be if only!

What I can be if only!


BRIDGEPORT, OKLAHOMA
United States Post Office,
A drawer of distinct age smell and aroma.
My development is a historic process.
The town itself, almost hit glory.
See the view yourself what is left.
Me, the drawer that could tell plenty of stories.
Please look beyond the stressed.
Bridgeport almost became a booming crowed town.
A lady named Cleo Beatrice Utterback, stepped down,
Her first step in Oklahoma, at the age of ten.
Her parents and sister with her.
Came on a train they did 1901, then.
Lines going through Bridgeport included,
Choctaw, Oklahoma, Gulf RR(becomes Rock Island) plus these secluded,
Enid and Anadarko Railways(later called Rock Island). 
Her father was a mercantile man of high end.
Homesteaded fertile land of the Canadian River.
Eventually they moved to Oklahoma City.
Bridgeport still has plenty to say. Plenty to blend
Stories or history that makes one quiver.
How about a little ditty?
What can a drawer of the post office
still offer, from Bridgeport, Oklahoma?
Maybe a history pocket?
Without any drama, recycle in mind, always wanted to be a frame.
That is it.  This woman that picked me out of the mess an fuss.
Has a hankering to redo me.
A plan to sand
Off the old, hope to gain some fame. 
On the outside black paint by a brush.
Inside white color with sprinkles of glitter.
Then deduct the wood on my bottom.
Replace the wood with glass and a sleak back.
Then I am a frame to pictures of Bridgeport, Oklahoma
Pleasant memory married to this craft idea. 
Bridgeport postal drawer will live on; I hope in a galleria.
Don't forget this is close to the bridge filmed in the Grapes of Wrath,
A film about  Oklahomans that took a well known path.
This is a picture of a house, the gas pumps taken out.
But shows you more of that 30's era of gas station history.
Just a drawer I am, but my aspiration is for you to enjoy,
This poem and keep Bridgeport in your head before more is destroyed.


Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Poem

Poem

What to convey?
Heck what do I say?
Depends on the moment,
What I need to get out.

Why does it help?
Almost like therapy?
Like a gulp of medicine you take,
Then a release or relief of syptoms happen in time.

Does it cool or thoughts?
Release the memories?
Allow us to share our grief?
Understand or come to terms?

I am not so sure.
But it is better than a hurl.
I know it works for me.
That is all I care it to be.

Author Notes

Poetry and poems I write have come to mean help for me as a means of therapy
© Sandra Lynn Mallo Adcock. All rights reserved,

Monday, June 2, 2014

Question and Answer


Question must appear.
Answer must appear.
No religion, politics are other care must appear.
Why do you insist on this?

What gears drive your fear?
I do not get it.
You say anything then limit.
Life includes, love, religion and politics.

Technically I am not writing about those.
Only asking why not include these?
Life includes all of these.
What shall I write this poem about?

Love?
Spirutuality?
Existance?
Motherhood?

Autism? One ism's?
Special needs?
Bullying?
Torture?

Why do we do all of this to each other?
Hurt those we love the most?
What can we host
to stop these horrible things?

Love is caring, 
when others do not.
Sharing when others 
won't.

Spirituality is everything we believe
that sets us apart.
Without it I can not exist
or I might as well kill my self a la carte.

Motherhood is a bond,
that is strong.
That cries in hurt when
the bond must be torn like a shirt.

My son has autism.
Special needs he is.
Taught me how to live.
Pity me not my wish,

This poem is a question.
This poem is an answer.
No more suggestions.
I hope you have liked my manner.

Thought provoking 
Withoug choking
No blowing smoke
Or, invoking cloaks.

Thanks for listening.
Hope my word were glistening, 
Distinguishing, and  explanation enough.
Prompting in thought without being taken off the cuff.

Becky

Becky,
My best friend
I've known you forty plus years!

Heck,
You know my mind.
Age we will share, as we have tears.

Check,
Time as it blinds,
All our affairs friendship bares.

Children,
Ours grown, or all almost.
From child to grandparent.

Forbidden,
Between best friends there is no gloating.
And, that to us-each other- our lives are transparent.

Declarant,
I will be devoting,
My love for you, Becky, is inherant, and I shall be your servant.

Author Notes

Becky is my best friend of 45 years.  We know eacy other inside and out.

I have never seen a triverse quite like this.  But I thought I would tryit.
© Sandra Lynn Mallo Adcock. A